


Owned by the Dragon

by jarethsdragon



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Dragon sex, Dubious Consent, Dubious Ethics, F/M, Mentions insanity, Original Yakuza character - Freeform, Other, Scion!Hanzo Shimada, Scion!Shimada
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-13
Updated: 2020-08-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:48:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25886842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jarethsdragon/pseuds/jarethsdragon
Summary: You are a servant to a daughter of a rival kumicho.  Hanzo Shimada has invited many daughters to a winter ball to choose a wife, and you don’t know what you’ll do when he sees you there.  Even worse, when disaster strikes, then who knows what his move will be.
Relationships: Dragon/Female Reader, Hanzo Shimada/Female Reader, Hanzo Shimada/Reader
Comments: 6
Kudos: 151





	Owned by the Dragon

The first time that you knew anything of it, you were being told that you would be accompanying your mistress as she traveled to meet Hanzo Shimada of Hanamura.

You were not entirely certain what to make of it. Your mistress was a timid girl of sixteen who had studied in Switzerland for her last 5 years of school. Thus she was a great deal kinder than the daughter of a yakuza might have otherwise been—allowing her direct servants time off to attend personal affairs, making sure that they had gifts for holidays and such, keeping them protected from the sometimes rowdy and randy men who formed the rank and file of her father’s clan. You had been a street rat—an orphan like many who roamed the streets in the poorest areas—when the kumicho had seen you fighting off a bully and elected to simply take you home to be a companion and maid to his daughter. You had gone to the exclusive private school with her and joined the same clubs and done more or less everything she had done as her shadow.

Of course, there were things you didn’t do. You could go on dates with her and simply chaperone her, but you could not date yourself. You could dress, but not ever better than her and not in anything but the most plain and nondescript kimono. You were not to wear cosmetics, but often were called on to do her makeup. You could go shopping with her and carry her bags, but often had no money to buy anything yourself—especially at the glittering and elite stores she preferred. You could grow out your hair and did because it was cheaper than getting haircuts. Since she was going to a local college, you could going around and carry her things and make sure that she had everything and knew her schedule, but you could not attend yourself.

Your mistress had bowed low to her father and appeared to meekly accept the pronouncement that after the death of his honored father, Hanzo Shimada had asked several families to send their daughters to Hanamura so that he could meet them at a winter ball. Your mistress, her father, and two servants would travel to Hanamura to attend the ball.

Immediately, you both went to her father’s study at her Osaka ocean house and pulled out the large atlas and began flipping through the pages. There, you found the little dot in the Tokushima prefecture at Mount Tsurugi. The atlas gave you dry figures about the area like average snowfall, average temperatures for each month, and so on. Her face grew grim as she stared at the dot, where her life might change forever.

So, you carefully packed her warmest silk kimono and the elaborate obi and hairpins. Hooded cloaks as well as woolen socks and muffs of rabbit fur and kid leather gloves. Then you packed her elaborate makeup box with its myriad little drawers and her computer. Then, with her father and her watching, you carefully began sorting through the delicate pieces of jewelry—a pearl necklace, a ruby necklace that glinted with fire, a few jeweled bracelets—and putting them into special velveteen jewelry bags and then in a locked box that the kumicho’s servant would take with him.

You were packed as well, but your things were far simpler—barely a suit a case of plain kimono in dull shades of gray or tan with two obi and your coat and your socks—and it took not even a half hour for you to be done. So, on the day of departure, you wheeled your little bag and sat next to Shiro—the studious man with fiddled anxiously with his phone and his silver, wire-rimmed glasses who acted as valet and secretary to the kumicho—and his large bag containing his suits as everyone loaded up the family’s luggage.

It would take a few hours to get there and you were next to your mistress the entire time. The kumicho was there, looking at his computer thoughtfully and largely ignoring everyone else, so it was up to you to be companion and company. Your mistress looked at first sad and then went pale as the signs whipped past, showing she was going further and further from home.

“Are you well?” you whispered to her.

She appeared not to hear you, simply stared out the window as yet another sign went past. Finally, she turned wet eyes to you and whispered back, “I... am frightened.”

“I know,” you nodded. “I have never been to the Tokushima prefecture, either.”

“It will be cold there already,” she whispered. “The computer said that it had snowed particularly badly already.”

You gave her a brave smile. “I have packed all of your warmest clothes. You will have your muff and that pretty red scarf your father gave you last year.”

She nodded and glanced around anxiously. Finally, she spoke to her father, “Father—please. Could... I please—?”

“We have gone over this, masamune-san,” he muttered sourly. “This is best for our clan.”

“But... he is... so far from home,” she whispered. “How will I possibly be of service to the clan so far away?”

“You will be serving the clan by cementing an alliance with one of the most significant yakuza clans,” he stated flatly. “You will serve the clan by submitting to his wishes and bearing him sons—as many as you can.”

“Father—,” she whimpered.

“No, you may not refuse the invitation.”

“But... I lo—.”

He slammed the computer shut and you were surprised it didn’t shatter right then and there. “I have told you a thousand times that this is the exact opportunity that I have been saving you for, Kioko-san. An opportunity to make sure that our clan lives on.” She let out a little sound and held her hands up to her mouth. “Now, I do not want to hear another word. You will go on to Hanamura and that is final.”

She nodded slowly, then, and bent her head. You saw her tears, how she was biting her lower lip to avoid sobbing. Finally you patted her knee, and whispered, “We will be fine, miss. There will be... many daughters there and it will be a lovely party.”

Kioko nodded and looked out the window again at the vanishing signs and woods. The landscape changed from the charming seaside area to woods to towns to cities and then climbed into hills and then up and up and up. The mountains appeared on the distant horizon and you saw the first dusting of snow on the ground. Dustings of snow and frost became inches of snow and then began to form drifts along the tracks and roads. Then you saw distant snow trucks and the dug out driveways and sidewalks.

And all through the trip, Kioko’s face grew more and more pale until she was the shade of snow reflected in the windows.

Your eyes went wide as you were driven up the wide driveway past the tall stone walls. A pair of large dragon statues guarded each side of the carved front door and they flickered and twisted in the light of the orange tipped blue flames at their bases. Heavily armed men patrolled the tops of the walls and stalked back and forth on the wide, roofed porch.

Kioko’s father climbed out of the door opened by the guard in the driveway and presented the heavy vellum invitation. The guard waved an electric device over the letter and it beeped and lit up with a green light. Then he nodded. The kumicho went to the door and Shiro then waved for a red-cheeked servant to pull out the luggage and you helped Kioko out.

Her lips still pouted under red and teary eyes and she looked so pale that you thought she might be sick, so you reached inside to pull out an antique, lacquered parasol and opened it up to hide her for just a moment more. She tugged ever so slightly at the coat around her and pulled her hood up over her head.

“A moment and we will be inside, ma’am,” you whispered.

She nodded and began making her clacking way in her wooden geta up the stone steps under the dragons and up to the front door. Her father went up in front of her, passing casually by the man in the wool suit with the machine gun. A dark clothed servant with tiny crests of swirling dragons embroidered on his lapels nodded and bowed low and opened the door. In a booming voice, he announced the family.

Everyone turned—other clan leaders, their daughters and various servants—to stare at your party as you entered in the opening hallway. There was a breathless hush as you all bowed to the hallway and then they bowed in return. At the back of the hallway, a raised dais held two chairs.

You saw him for the first time. Hanzo Shimada was in a pale gray kimono with an almost silvery gray haori embroidered with wagon wheels, staring over the crowd idly. His brother—the notorious Dragon of the North and Shimada Sparrow lounged in his chair, clad in silver and green kimono and flicking a fan back and forth as if he simply was grateful that he had that to do.

Hanzo nodded solemnly towards your kumicho and waved idly. You were aware of a sudden and overwhelming heat in your veins and the dark blush on your cheeks as his eyes swept towards you. Then it was over—he stared at your mistress—and you were left with only a tingle of something you couldn’t quite name as his attention moved on.

You wanted to see what happened next—to see what he was planning on doing—but then one of the Shimada servants came forward and began directing you away. You gamely followed him, pulling the cart that held all of Kioko’s and your luggage. You were taken through the interior courtyard—a flawless plane of sparkling white punctuated with black tree trucks holding up puffy lumps of snow and then occasional short pine trees that looked like they had been dipped in sugar—to a second tall tower.

“This is the guest tower,” the servant murmured as he guided you to an elevator. “Your family is on the third floor.”

“Thank you... ahh...?”

“Yoshi.”

You bowed low in respect. “Thank you, Yoshi-san.”

Yoshi guided you down the short hallway to the suite. Sliding the paper door open, he gestured. “You will have two bedrooms and then the bathroom is down the hall. The meals will be served in the dining hall for the families and servants will receive meals at posted times an hour and a half after the families. Of course, the families can ring down or send down for snacks or for tea at their convenience.”

You nodded slowly and began pulling the luggage off the cart. Yoshi helped you get the kumicho’s and Shiro’s luggage into their room and then showed you that the formal, party kimonos and things you had shipped ahead were already in the rooms. On the short table was a plain piece of heavy card stock with a careful list of activities ending in the winter party.

“Oh, is this to be a costume party?” you gasped. “No one—.”

“Yes, miss. No one said anything because Master Genji had the idea only a few days ago. As such, we have invited the seamstresses and tailors to help those who are interested in dressing up for the occasion.” He waved at the stiff paper. “As you will see, tomorrow morning there will be a costume design session and the measurements will be taken. The day after tomorrow, there will be scheduled fittings and final fittings that evening so that they are ready the following day for the festivities.”

You followed along with the schedule, noting that Kioko had scheduled fittings and then was invited to tour a temple and to go take part in a tea ceremony. The back listed stores and attractions in the nearby town, as well as numbers for taxi services and even two listings for companies that offered mountain climbs and nature walks.

“Thank you, Yoshi-san,” you murmured.

“Yes, miss. You will find that there are numerous activities available around the festivities for your mistress and her father.” He gave you a short bow and then gestured towards the small, flat black phone. “Please ring if there is anything we can do.”

You nodded anxiously. “Please, sir. Is there... anything you can tell me... that might help my mistress?”

His eyes narrowed for a moment before he nodded with a frown. “You are not the first to ask me that—.”

“I am so sorry, Yoshi-san,” you whispered, bowing. “I do apologize.”

“I have been instructed to say only not to mention dragons,” he whispered in a low voice. “There is nothing else I can say out of fairness to each family.”

“Not to mention... dragons,” you whispered. “Thank you.”

His lips thinned slightly and he nodded again. “Every daughter from each family will have an equal chance to meet Master Hanzo and Master Genji. Then, they may choose to marry the daughters of their choice.”

“May? They ‘may’ choose to marry?”

He shrugged and looked down his imperious nose at you. “Yes, they may choose to marry. Or they may choose to look elsewhere.”

You shuddered at his chilly tone. “Thank you again, Yoshi-san.”

There was little else to be done except to unpack what you could. The costly kimono needed to be hung up to ease the wrinkles and there were tall stands to hang up the obi. The makeup chest went to one side and her computer went on the table. Then there was nothing left to do but wait.

Kioko was brought up by her father and you took your time making sure she was elegantly dressed in a dark blue kimono with cranes flying up from the hems to the neckline. Her hair was swept up and you took care to push in the golden hairpins just right. Then, you opened her makeup box and began sweeping powder over her face.

“Kioko-san, you must smile,” you whispered. “Please.”

“How can I be happy when I am only going down to be presented to him?” she whispered. “Did you see him?”

“I did, Kioko-san,” you nodded briskly.

“He is... so old,” she whispered.

“Nonsense. He isn’t that old. He has just a little bit of gray and it makes him look older than he is.” You tried to give her a smile. “Undoubtedly, he is tired of meeting and greeting everyone and he probably wants to go to bed. Besides, none of that—smile please—makes him a bad man.”

She gamely smiled and rolled her eyes slightly so that you could do her eyeliner. Then she tilted back so you could brush a little more powder along her jaw. At last, her makeup was finished and made her look flawless and beautiful. You took out a mild apricot perfume and misted her neck and at her wrists.

“You look beautiful,” you grinned at her. “You will wow them downstairs.”

Her face turned tragic and tears filled her eyes, threatening to ruin the perfect dark gray lines. “But I don’t want to impress the old man!”

“Kioko-san—what are you saying?!” you gasped. Glancing around anxiously, you took her hands and whispered, “What are you saying?”

“He does not.... I do not... do not want to impress him,” she hissed. “I.... I love someone else. I do not even want to attend but... but my father... insisted.” A tear trickled down her face and you rushed to pat at it with a tissue. “I do not want it.”

“But... we must!” You touched her hands again. “It is... our duty.” You gave her a brisk smile. “Besides, they may not choose you. Either of them. They may choose no one at all.”

“What can I do?”

“Enjoy the party?” you parried lightly but your voice cracked and showed that you didn’t believe it even when you said it. “Besides, it will be lots of fun. I’ve been told that the dance will be a masquerade.”

She blinked anxiously as you tried to pat the tears on her face. Finally, you repaired her makeup and held her hands again. “It will be fine. You.... You will see that it will be a lot of fun.

Unexpectedly, she hissed, “Can you go?”

“Can I what?!”

“Can you go to the masquerade? No one will know it is you. I’ll turn off the lights and... and I’ll stay in here. I’ll even wear your kimono so that... that no one will know.” Her face lit up. “Please. I will do anything and... and you will be free to enjoy the party. All you have to do is stand against the wall and not spill anything.”

Your voice hissed low enough that you prayed no one else heard it. “That is.... That is silly. What if he decides on you? And your father—.”

“Please? Just think about it—please.”

You shrugged. “I am going to clean up and then after your dinner, I will get my supper. You can come up here and I will help you get ready for bed.”

She nodded slowly. “My father will be here soon to... to take me to dinner and... introduce me.”

“Good luck,” you whispered, although you had no idea what form that good luck should come in—a successful introduction or an ambivalent pass by both brothers.

She went down to dinner on the arm of her father, leaving you to brush up the small traces of powder and put things away. And then she returned some two hours later, still silent and distraught and pale as you helped her undress for bed. She said nothing at all—no matter how you asked and prodded her—as you unwound the scarlet obi and folded it. She was still silent as you slid the blue silk kimono off her shoulders and on to the hangar stand. And you had no other way to prod her to talk when you put her to bed.

Finally, you could go down to join the other servants. Dinner was... lukewarm by the time you got your bowl of rice and tea. The pickled vegetables were almost gone and you finally got a small portion of vinegary cauliflower and onions and peppers as well as roasted potatoes. It was better that some nights when Kioko’s father would come home late and the whole household would be rousted to fix and serve him dinner. You ate without enthusiasm, eyeing the other servants with as much suspicion as they looked at you. Unlike other gatherings, the servants were not chatting easily with each other. It was a cut throat competition and no one wanted to do get too friendly.

You took your dishes to dish tub with a morose feeling pressing down on your shoulders. It was so hard to think what you were going to do, what you should be hoping for as you silently went down the hallway to go to the guest tower. You were dragging your feet as you went to the heavy door when you heard the soft sliding of a paper door.

You looked up and you saw Hanzo himself staring at you from the doorway. You instinctively sidestepped, almost running clumsily into the wall. Immediately, your eyes went to the floor and you bowed low. “I apologize, sir. I did not mean to interrupt you.”

He let out an impatient sound, but kept staring at you. You felt pinned by his hot gaze and it took everything in you not to squirm. There were minutes—you could hear a distant clock ticking somewhere—while you stood there, staring down at his slippered feet. It was too hard, so you finally whispered, “I apologize again. I did not mean to interrupt your... evening.”

He grunted sourly.

“Is there anything I... could do for you?”

“Do for me?” he rumbled. “What could you do for me....?” Your mouth opened and closed several times before you managed to make a solitary squeak. “Perhaps... I should ask you the same.”

You sputtered for an agonizingly embarrassed moment before you stammered, “Oh, I am... only a.... I mean, I am not.... I am... only a servant.”

“Ahh.”

“And I would not presume to interrupt you.”

“What family are you with?” You let out another anxious sound when he simply added, “I remember seeing you in the hall, but... there were so many that I do not readily recall.” You mumbled out the clan name and heard him let out another rumble of sound. “Are you a...?”

“My mistress—.”

“Is not important right now.” His feet came closer. You felt a brush of warmth along your ear. “But I am... most intrigued by what is right in front of me.”

Another servant came bustling down the hallway, breaking your concentration and drawing your eyes up to see who was intruding on the thick atmosphere. He let out a sound and suddenly backed away, sliding the door shut with a loud crack. Inexplicably grateful for the interruption, you shuffled to the door and changed the house slippers for your outdoor geta so that you could go to the other tower.

The next morning, you rose and helped Kioko get dressed for the formal breakfast and accompanied her to the seamstress and to select her costume. She was restless and anxious as she stared at the designs and costumes, looking around every moment for something or someone who never appeared. Idly, she picked up a drawing for a peacock—a teal kimono with feathers embroidered all along the hem and the edges of the long, elaborate sleeves with a green obi with gold patterned threads and delicate beads. There were even matching earrings of the feather tips with beads threaded on the edges of the tufts and a blue mask edged with yet more peacock feathers.

“It would look good on you, ma’am,” you whispered.

She hummed and picked up a separate picture of a silvery silk kitsune costume. The kimono was the palest shade of slate blue with trailing sleeves and a train down the back like a geisha’s. There was white fur along the lapels and the edges of the sleeves, along with white gloves and a full face mask in the shape of a white fox and a silvery obi that would form a large, elaborate bow in the back with nine furry tails hanging from the back. All of it was layered silvery grays and pale blues with only two small dots of scarlet on the cheekbones of the mask. You liked it, but it was probably too close to mourning white for anyone else.

You stared at it morosely and whispered, “That would be beautiful, too. What do you think, ma’am?”

She shrugged idly. “I don’t know.” Her eyes flicked up to you and you sucked in your breath. “Whichever you think would be best.”

“Ma’am!”

She shrugged again and stared at the two drawings. “I don’t know. Which would you choose?”

You glanced at the flamboyant peacock and then at the silvery fox. You forced yourself to sound excited. “I would choose the fox. It would look beautiful on you and you could wear your pearls. And definitely you should wear those beautiful silver and pearl earrings! And we could put your hair into a French braid and then pearls—.”

She looked up at you sadly and shrugged. “You make it sound lovely.”

“It would be, ma’am.”

“Then I choose the peacock.”

You gaped slightly at her and then looked at the seamstress. What on earth would the seamstress—and thus the Shimadas—think of such ambivalent responses? “Ma’am....”

Kioko tapped the peacock picture and whirled on her heel. The seamstress gaped at her as she stumbled away and disappeared. You bit your lip and nodded at the peacock drawing. “That will be amazing,” you whispered at the scowling woman. “Thank you for your kindness.”

“That will be the last peacock,” she muttered.

“The... last peacock?” you whispered.

“Yes. I have only a few of the peacock kimono made up already and three other women have chosen it.”

You cocked your head. “Oh—so there will be several peacocks?”

“Yes, yes. There will be several of the feathery things.” You nodded eagerly. “My assistants will be working like mad to be sure that we have the hems and embroidery and beadwork finished. And if your mistress wants, you can go to the shop in town and select other accessories.”

You nodded several times before bowing and backing away. Kioko was in the suite, staring out over the harsh and snow covered mountainside. “Kioko-san, I have something to tell you.” She shrugged slightly, her eyes looking over the rocks and snow without pausing. “You... may want to choose something else.”

“Why?”

“There will be three other peacocks. Perhaps you want to—?”

She finally looked at you with a smile. “Truly?”

“Yes. There will be other peacocks—.”

That made her sigh in relief and she finally turned towards you. “Then... I will not... stand out?”

“No, ma’am. But—?”

“Oh, thank you!” Tears fell down her cheeks now. “Thank you—that is good news.”

You gaped at her. “Ma’am?”

Unexpectedly, she clasped your hands and smiled. “It is such a relief.”

You nodded at the sudden, hysterical crack in her voice. Finally, you offered, “I could find you.... Something might be at the stores at the village downhill...?”

Your voice shook as you heard the door to the suite open up. Glancing up with a guilty expression, you were shocked to see Shiro go to the other bedroom. Kioko followed your eyes and then burbled, “Please. If you could go with the others and.... Just... go.”

You looked back at her and whispered, “Ma’am—I could find you something unique.”

“Yes! Yes—go shopping with the others.” She yawned politely behind her hand. “I am exhausted.”

“Oh... of course, ma’am,” you whispered with a confused frown.

“I will rest here and... and you can go... go shopping.” You nodded slowly. “My card is in the jewelry box—.”

Unexpectedly, the secretary was in the doorway, holding the silver and green card in his hands. “Miss—here is the card.”

You gingerly took the card and stared at it. “Ma’am—are you sure?”

“Yes. Please hurry and find whatever you think will be... appropriate.” She waggled her fingers dismissively. “I will be fine here. Now, hurry so that you do not miss the others.” Unexpectedly, she straightened and clapped with an aggressive sound. “Hurry up.”

You had no choice except to take the card and go to the other tower. There was a crowd in the front hall of daughters and servants and you slid into the edge of them. There was a covered wagon pulled by two horses in harnesses with jingling bells to take you down the borderline treacherous way to the village downhill through the estate’s parks and a forest area as the driver took a more direct back trail instead of the zigzagging main road. The wagon had blankets and furs and cushions and being in the crisp air with a bunch of others made it seem festive.

For a brief moment, you were worried that a group of yakuza princesses would be problematic for their security. Then, you were surprised yet again because apparently the Shimada had closed down the mall entirely. Everything from the electronics store to the food court to the fashion shops—the entire shopping mall—was closed to everyone except your group. The employees stood there in almost terror as everyone began trickling through the shops and corridors and the only men present were suited men with dark glasses and tiny earbuds and undoubtedly weapons hidden in their pockets.

You staggered through the crowd, dodging the men and trying to stay out of the way of the ladies. Thankfully, no one paid attention to a plain servant like you—or any of the other solemn servants who were all but running through to find what their lists said to find. You found a small store and picked out a fan of teal ostrich feathers with peacock feather tips along the bottom and a few hairpins with peacock accents. As a safety measure, you also bought a spool of blue green ribbon—you could use that in all kinds of ways.

You were waiting for your fan to be wrapped up in tissue when you saw a glorious ink drawing of a wolf facing a dragon. It seemed to be almost alive on the tan paper scroll and you stared at it, waiting for those eyes to blink.

“Would you like the scroll as well, miss?” the shopkeeper whispered.

“Oh... is it—?”

“It is for sale,” he reassured you. “And a fine gift it would be.” He winked playfully at you. “Perhaps for the fine man in your life?”

You flushed and nodded. It was too perfect, too... would lifelike be the wrong word? You could encourage Kioko-san to give the scroll as a gift of thanks for their hospitality. Slowly, you took the paper wrapped packages and watched with anxious eyes as the shopkeeper took down the scroll, rolled it up and slid it into a cloth bag obviously custom made to hold it. With shaking hands, you handed over the card to pay for everything.

You were able to sit in the food court for a few minutes. Anyone looking could immediately tell the two classes of women in the mall. The pampered daughters of the clans lounged with cups of tea and sweet treats, chatting about this and that or showing off their manicures and hairstyles. The servants who were sent out were all plainly dressed—as were you—and panting over their piles of bags with ragged, unpolished nails and severely efficient hairstyles. The servants all glanced warily at each other and then their own purchases as if they were judging each other. You sort of nodded at the other servants since they were in your position, but you couldn’t resist trying to pick out the costumes they were trying to complete. You saw two other servants holding turquoise items—veils or feathered hats or feather tipped items. One of the daughters examined her blue-green nail polish and you saw she had an shiny green exotic eyeliner and a makeup bag.

Your Kioko would face stiff competition, if she weren’t so obviously against the match.

You fled to the department store that advertised the makeup brand you had seen. Sure enough, there was an entire promotion of “Caribbean Palette” colors in eyeshadows, nail polishes, eyeliners, and a large bottle with what appeared to be a super sized mascara brush so that small portions of hair could be an iridescent teal. You even found a small card of peacock feather stickers to be applied to the nails. You rushed to buy everything and then ran back to the food court. Thankfully, the guards were only starting to herd everyone back into the wagon and you managed to get a few inches of a seat as everyone had packages and bags. As your wagon pulled away to go up the uneven track again, you saw the crowd of curious onlookers and paparazzi being held back from entering the mall area.

Again, you had that vaguely festive feeling as the two horses drug the wagon along with their bells ringing. There were even thermoses of hot tea and rum toddies, which seemed to loosen everyone up. The conversation around you was all about the masquerade ball that became more and more casual as the drinks were passed around.

The stone dragons greeted you again with their warm flames as the wagon pulled up to the front door again. You all piled out in relief and climbed the stone steps slowly, allowing the ladies of standing to go first. Immediately, the group split up and began going to their individual suites to hide their bounties.

The main house seemed cool and strange to you as you began walking. It struck you as strange that it seemed that there were dragons everywhere. Now that you were dawdling to give Kioko as much time as you could, you saw that there were scrolls of dragon paintings, dragon incense holders, and stone dragons standing over small fountains. The wolf might be out of place, but otherwise scroll seemed to fit here and you took heart that it would be an appropriate gift.

Shiro came bustling out of the elevator as you got there. He caught your gaze and then flushed and walked away in what felt like a desperately different direction. You didn’t know what to make of it and went up to the suite to show Kioko your purchases.

“Oh... they are... lovely,” she sighed and then shrugged. Her eyes seemed almost sleepily half closed as she seemed to ignore what you had picked up. “I suppose they will look... nice.”

“Aren’t you the least bit excited?” She shrugged again and you frowned. “Should I tell your father—?”

“No!” she snarled. “Do not involve Father.”

You jerked back in surprise. “Yes, ma’am.”

“I am simply tired,” she pouted.

You frowned again. “Were you... unable to sleep?”

She nodded again. “That’s right. I couldn’t sleep.” Her eyes went to the window. “It’s so cold. And the wind howls so much. Why did Father have to send us here? It’s like the end of the world.”

You nodded slowly. “Yes, ma’am.”

She nodded again. “Please help me get undressed.”

You brought her a warm washcloth for her face and then went around behind her. Inexplicably, the obi was in a mess in back. You tugged and untwisted the heavy silk fabric, untangling the length before hanging it up. The kimono ties were also tangled in knots rather than your normal, careful bows and it took minutes to get them untied. Finally relieved of the heavy silk, you hastened to put it on the hangar as Kioko tugged on the simple nightgown. You tugged open the luggage and brought out her woolen socks as well, but she waved them aside before going to the elaborate futon and lying down.

“Why won’t you let me sleep?”

“I... apologize,” you murmured. “I will... ahh....”

“Is there something elsewhere you could be doing? Could you go get me a fresh pot of tea or something and let me rest?”

“You are thirsty,” you asked. “Do you want me to have them cook you something?”

“No... I just... want to be alone.”

You were silently putting the new makeup and jewelry items away when your hands hit the bag containing the scroll. Knocking on the door frame, you whispered, “Ma’am—shall I take the scroll down as well?” She nodded in her pillow. “Yes, ma’am. I’ll be right back.”

You got to the main tower as quickly as you could. It was starting to snow again, too and you felt almost frozen as you got to the main hall. It was silent as only a stone building in the mountains could be and for a moment, you dithered. Not even a Shimada servant was bustling through, though it was close to the scheduled dinner hour, so perhaps it was understandable that no one was in the public area.

Timidly, you went to the back door of the meeting hall. It would be a disgrace to come all the way here and be unable to give the gift! You could vaguely hear a commotion further into the building, but surely it would be a terrible intrusion to simply walk in there. After another minute, you frowned to realize that you would have to wait.

“Are you lost, Miss?” purred a low voice behind you.

You gasped and the scroll danced in your hands as you spun around. Hanzo and Genji both stood there. The younger was in a green kimono, his head cocked curiously and a sunny smile on his face. The older Hanzo was in a dark gray outfit—a kyudo gi with his long bow in one hand and a quiver on his hip. When you bowed, he nodded and smirked at you.

“I am... sorry for the intrusion,” you murmured. Your eye went to the elaborate tattoo going from his shoulder to his wrist. “My mistress wanted to give you a small gift to... ahh... thank you for your generous hospitality.”

You kept staring at his feet... their feet as you proffered the scroll. Genji stepped forward and took the scroll from you. “Thank you for—.”

“Generous hospitality,” Genji finished. “I see.”

Hanzo grunted and stepped up to you. To your surprise, he put a large, rough finger under your chin and pulled your head up. “I thank you.” He stared at you and your eyes flicked up to his. Immediately, you felt a rush of heat as you drowned in his dark eyes. “Are you attending the festivities tomorrow night?”

Your face went red and you squirmed on his fingertip like a fish caught on a hook. “Oh, no, sir—I am merely a servant!”

That did not seem to register for a moment—not until Genji forced out a chuckle, “Anija—what do you think she will even wear?”

He stared at you, taking in your plain kimono and the fuzzy frazzles of hair around your head. “A matter easily corrected, I think.” He glanced at you again. “And I would like to see how you would look finely dressed.”

“Oh, sir,” you whispered, feeling your cheeks heat up as your face went pale. “I am merely a servant—.”

He hummed and released your chin. Your eyes flicked down him, inexplicably drawn to the tattoo. There was a dizzy moment where you thought you saw it slither down his arm again. Genji snickered and you bowed your head, forcing yourself to ignore the tattoo and to look at their feet again. Hanzo didn’t move in the slightest, not even when you realized you were staring.

“Of course, we thank your family,” Hanzo rumbled over his brother’s soft laughter. “And I look forward to seeing you all at the party.”

Genji singsonged from behind him, “And don’t forget that we all must wear masks until midnight.”

“Until... midnight,” you whispered in shock.

Genji butted in again, “But the party won’t stop then....”

Hanzo grunted, “Genji... enough.” He paused thoughtfully. “I have a few things to take care of and dinner will be in a few hours.” You watched Genji’s feet walk away as Hanzo’s remained firmly in front of you. “If you will excuse me, please, miss.”

You didn’t know that you were holding your breath—or that you were almost pressed completely against the wall—until you were quite alone again. Your ears were ringing and your lungs seemed to ache as you sucked in air. You might have stayed right there all night if you hadn’t heard the Shimada servants start to call out and start to set the table for dinner. With a little whimper, you darted away to go back to your mistress.

You slipped in silently and waited by the windows, watching as yet another lacy snow fell. Thankfully, she was better rested—and better tempered!—when you woke her up. You combed out her hair and twisted it into an elegant chignon, fastening it with a number of bobby pins and then a very traditional comb dripping with silk sakura flowers. For tonight, she had minimal makeup—mostly some blush and a rosy gloss on her lips. You would have to take it up several notches for the party tomorrow, but for right now, you chose to go with understated elegance with her pink kimono and aqua obi.

You were exhausted when you got your own dinner and could barely eat. The tensions among the staff and servants was thick enough to cut with a knife as everyone wondered who had the Shimada kumicho’s eye and who had Genji’s favor. It honestly spoiled the delicately prepared riceballs and vegetables. Then you crawled back to your small futon in the family suite.

The next morning was a flurry of activities. Genji was bundled up and took a few people around the estate and to the sake brewery on the estate. Hanzo took a number of the men up into the mountains on horseback to hunt. The seamstresses and their staff and assistants rushed around the guest tower to deliver the elaborate outfits. Kioko stood there and waited patiently as she tried on the peacock kimono and then the elaborate obi. You gently eased the peacock feathered mask and handed her the feathered fan. Not for the first time, you blessed the design of traditional kimono and their ability to fit a wide variety of shapes with clever folding and creasing of the cloth, so there was relatively little that needed to be done to fit each person. Definitely not like Western fashions which seemed to need to be taken entirely apart and put together again to fit properly. The seamstress and her assistant mainly needed to be sure that the elaborate under layers coordinated and fit and the tidy cushions to hold up the bow of the obi were fitted.

You were sweating and panting for breath as you finally managed to get the costume off of Kioko. It slid heavily onto the stand and you settled the mask on the low table where it wouldn’t get messed up by accident. She thankfully was able to go to lunch, giving you a moment to rest and to stare at the elaborate costume with an unfamiliar itch of envy.

What on earth were you thinking? You needed to concentrate on grooming your mistress for the night. You needed to be sure that she presented herself well and heaven only knew what her father would do if anything went wrong. He had already been presented with a selection of half masks—one just covering the eyes, one down the left side of the face and one down the right side of the face—and had not stopped complaining about it. Shiro had suffered through the complaining as you had faced Kioko’s apathy and you were sure that the kumicho would be hauling everyone home if there was not the tempting bait of a possible political marriage.

The afternoon hours went by slowly. You finally got Kioko to sleep in the afternoon—a short nap—before you began the lengthy routine of skin care the occasion demanded. She balked petulantly at the teal nail polish, but did allow you to apply fresh sparkling pink and then to add the peacock stickers. She didn’t need a lot of makeup—that was good genetics for you—but you were determined to make her sparkle with the Caribbean blue eyeliner and the most careful wings at the corner of her eyes making them seem almost feline. Slowly, you eased her hair into a French braid wound around the teal ribbons with the new hairpins and the feathery earrings and then her pearls and a golden bracelet. Finally, you slid the mask on and tied it behind her head.

Her father knocked imperiously and you knelt down with your forehead almost to the floor when he came in. He grunted, apparently satisfied with his daughter’s appearance and said, “You will need to sparkle tonight, masamune.”

“Yes, Father.”

His voice—disembodied over the feet you stared at—whispered, “You will need to be a gem beyond compare to capture the attention of the Shimada kumicho.”

“Yes, Father.”

“But the younger son will also be there, and looking at you.”

“Yes, Father.”

“I am counting on you.”

Both pairs of feet stepped softly out of the room and went down the hall. You took a breath of relief and began picking up and sweeping up fine dust that the powders and cosmetics left. Not to mention putting up all of the packaging and the soft velvet bags that held her jewelry. With a sigh of relief, you decided that the room was again tidy.

Then there was a knock and you whirled around to see a very darkly clad, slender man standing there with a stack of wide boxes and a glistening white wolf mask. Flushing, you bowed low and murmured, “I apologize, sir, but the family has already left.” Standing, you looked curiously at the boxes and the mask. “And, sir, the mistress has already dressed. She is going as a peacock.”

There was a tenor chuckle and you were surprised to see the figure—a ninja?—toss his head playfully. “Not at all, miss.” He pushed the boxes to you and you grabbed hold of them, suddenly desperately worried that they contained something firstly fragile and secondly expensive. “These are for you.”

You flushed and shook your head anxiously. “I beg your pardon, but I am—.”

“Merely a servant,” he agreed. “But it seems my brother wants you to attend in secret.”

“Brother?” You gaped at him. “M-m-m-master... Genji?”

“Take these,” he ordered and you automatically complied. Then he pulled down his hood to show you his grinning face. “Now—do you need help with all that?”

“Sir—I do not understand!”

“Hurry. You’re expected downstairs.” He cocked his head playfully. “I’ll help if you—.”

“Oh, no! But I—.”

“Great. I’ll walk you down, but we need to hurry.”

You flushed and opened the boxes. There was a kimono of pale ice blue silk. Snowflakes of white and silver flowed around the hem up to the knees. The obi was of the blue of arctic glaciers with veins of silver. The lapels—all the way from the neck down to your feet and around the train in the back—were lined with snowy fur. Even the wolf mask had the exotic white fur around the edges. And he pulled out satiny gloves. Then there were elaborate leather and fur lined slippers with silver snowflakes stamped on the toes.

He pointed towards Kioko’s bedroom. “Go change in there.” He grunted and plucked a throwing star from seemingly nowhere. “I’m not going to wait forever.” You opened your mouth and he snorted. “Or I’ll change you myself?”

With an angry flush and a clop of your teeth as you bit back the curses you wanted to hurl at him, you took the boxes to Kioko’s room and began stripping off your uniform. There was the silk under robe, then the kimono, then you were stuck with the obi. It would be impossible to manage that without help. Genji tied it and handed you the mask.

“Come on.” You took a step forward on hesitant feet towards him. “Oh, I forgot! Hold on.”

He dug in his pocket and pulled out two velvet bags. Dumping them into his palm, you were stunned to see silver earrings with brilliant yellow stones and a matching necklace. He fastened the necklace around your neck and you shook your head. “Oh, right—the earrings would get tangled in the mask, wouldn’t they? Now, let me brush out your hair and we’ll be off.”

“What?!” you squeaked, but he was already behind you with a comb. You had let your hair grow out—it was a cheap hairstyle—and he fanned the length out behind you. Then he took a bit from each of your temples and gathered it behind your head. You felt him twist your hair and then put in a clip or comb or hairpin or something that you knew without seeing that was probably silver and jeweled and even more frighteningly expensive. “What are you doing?”

“Just a quick pick me up and then I’ll tie the mask on.” He stood in front of you and arranged the mask and tied the satin ribbons behind your head. “Sorry—I don’t have any perfume or makeup, but the mask covers your entire face, so don’t worry. Just be a little quiet until we get downstairs, huh?”

He hustled you to the elevator and then through to the dance. Of course, no one stopped him as he escorted a lady on his arm—even if that lady was not specifically invited. People parted, nodding at him and letting him sweep you through the room. You had never worn such lovely or expensive things—certainly not fur edged silk—and it felt almost foreign to walk in lazily and softly like this.

Hanzo was already there and he took your breath away. He wore a white hakama and spotless white boots. There was some kind of white top that dipped from his right shoulder down to his waist, exposing that detailed and glorious tattoo. On his right shoulder, he had an elaborately tooled leather guard and across his shoulders and over his head he wore a white wolf skin. The teeth glittered just over his nose and the eyes seemed to stare at everything. Under each eye, he had golden stripes, adding a dangerous and pagan look to his handsome features.

And his entire outfit seemed to be out of the same silk that your kimono was made from.

Genji pulled his hood up, chuckling at the cooing and nodding of the rest of the assembly, and then walked calmly up to the great white wolf, Hanzo. “Here we are, anija.”

“I am very pleased,” he nodded. Slowly, he offered his hand, smiling when you took it. “Come, my lady wolf.”

He tucked your gloved hand into his elbow carefully and leaned over to whisper, “My lady okami, say little or nothing and bow no lower than I. We will go through the crowd as I must greet all my guests.”

You nodded slowly, certain that you would be discovered. Hanzo strolled slowly through the crowd, calling you simply ‘Lady Wolf’ as he greeted each family. There were four peacocks—including Kioko, a beautiful daughter in a black kimono scattered with spiderwebs and a mask of black feathers, a mermaid, a pair of geisha in kimono and silken masks far more costly than any true geisha could afford, a fox in orange-red, and what you could only guess was a tree spirit or perhaps a dryad covered in strings of sakura blossoms. Other costumes were elaborate layers of kimono with sequined and feathered masks covering their faces. He simply addressed them all as “my lady spider”, “my lady mermaid”, “my lady peacock” with the same solemn ceremony he called you “my lady wolf”.

“My lady wolf, would you come with me to the tables?” 

Of course you followed him to the elaborately laid tables. An ice sculpture of dragons twisted above rainbow colored rolls of sushi and sashimi. Another sculpture was a baying wolf above snow and delicate little cups of liquid in shades of brown, amber, orange and white rested in the snow at the wolf’s paws. One immaculately clothed servant stood over three steaming tureens and a huge bowl of noodles and surrounded by a buffet of toppings so that he could serve delicate bowls of ramen with a choice of broth and toppings. Other tables offered fruit trays or vegetable trays or platters of pickled vegetables. Yet another tray offered smoked salmon and caviar on toasts. You were astounded to be led into another room where even more delicacies and an entire table of pastries. From somewhere, tables of all heights allowed people to stand or kneel or sit so that they could politely set aside their masks and enjoy the delightful food.

He offered you a square plate of glazed teal and began loading it up with food. “My lady wolf, would you care for a drink?” You gave him a nervous squeak, your eyes flicking up to his. “A little liquid refreshment.”

Your voice was soft as you asked him, “But... what about the mask? I... I—.”

He picked up a glass and set a delicate little straw in the amber liquid. “This should do it.” Aiming the straw under the mask, he nodded at you. “Now, take a sip.” You took a nervous sip, whimpering as it burned down your throat. “Very good, my lady wolf.”

He circled the party like his namesake, watching the daughters chatter and talk and the men sample the food and drink. Genji—the only ninja in the crowd—seemed to be in the middle of the girls as they vied to offer him plates of treats and little sips of drinks through the cloth of his hood. He spied you both and gave you an irreverent salute and a nod before looking at the fox on his left and taking her plate.

Hanzo nodded at the few men approaching and leaned to whisper to you, “Come to the balcony with me, my lady wolf. We will be able to speak a few words and you can have a mouthful.”

On the balcony, he lifted your mask to your forehead and touched your lips. You could feel the rough callous of his finger as he looked at you. “Now, my lady wolf, take a bite or two before you grow faint.”

Impossibly, he plucked up a tiny sushi roll and held it to your mouth. “Please, my lady wolf.”

You hesitantly took the bite, relishing the salty and smooth flavors. He picked up a thumb sized pastry and held it to your mouth until you took a small bite. Quite without knowing how, you realized that you had cleaned the plate and he was offering you a tiny shot filled with a clear liquid. “Now, my lady wolf—a bit of something to lend us merriment and to celebrate the season of ice.”

You swallowed it without question, acutely aware that the shadows of people were starting to gather at the balcony door. Thank goodness there were no windows or you would be lost, but as it was he simply angled you so that the most anyone could see from the door was his broad, fur covered back. “What... is that?”

“A potato vodka that Genji likes. It is smooth and a delicate flavor that will not be hard for you to grow to like.”

You flushed anxiously. “I... thank you.”

He smirked down at you. “I do not know exactly what it is, but I find myself irresistibly drawn to your side.” Slowly he drew his rough thumb over your lip again. “It is as the wolf is drawn to the moon. As the sea is drawn to the shore.”

You nodded slowly, hypnotized by the warmth in his eyes. What was there to say to that? Finally, you whispered, “I am only a—.”

“Do not say that.” He seemed incensed that you were even trying to say anything. “I will not have it, my lady wolf.”

Rather than say anything else, he drew your mask down over your face again. “Now, allow me a dance.”

What was there to do except to nod? He led you through the crowd again until you were at the small space cleared for dancing. Genji had the woman in black on the floor already, leading her through a stately waltz. Several of the fathers were dancing with their daughters as well, but again the world simply parted to let you through on Hanzo’s arm. He did not ask much from you—and you would not have known how to waltz anyway—and simply swayed from side to side to the violin music.

At the end of the piece, he tucked your hand into his elbow and began his circuit around the party again. “My lady wolf, have you met Yamaguchi Sora-sama? Sora-sama, how is your lovely daughter?”

Sora nodded over a glass of amber alcohol. “She is the peacock over there.”

Hanzo glanced over your head to where there were two peacocks talking to each other. “I see, sir. Have you been enjoying yourself?”

“Hanamura is lovely as always,” he nodded. “And I know that my daughter will enjoy a waltz.”

“Of course, sir. But in a few minutes, perhaps?” They both bowed to each other. “Please enjoy yourself.”

Then he simply led you to the next small group. It was almost boring to simply follow him around—if you hadn’t been almost terrified that you would be discovered. Your eyes kept darting anxiously to see little slices of colors and outlines of tattoos at necklines and out the bottom of the sleeves, reminding you that these were all very dangerous men.

You stumbled slightly and leaned against him. Immediately, he stopped and looked down at you. “Would you care to rest, my lady wolf?”

You froze right there, staring up at him. “I... Ahh....”

You were saved by the ninja coming up. “Anija—you cannot monopolize the most enchanting wolf all evening.”

You pulled back, cuddling against Hanzo’s side bashfully. Genji held out his gauntleted hand to you and you timidly shook your head. Hanzo looked down at you and then snorted at the ninja. “I do not think—.”

The clock struck eleven, stopping him mid word. He sighed and nodded finally. “I regret to say that we must part, my lady wolf.” He leaned closer and you swore that he took in a breath as if you were wearing some perfume he could not get enough of. “Before the masks come off at midnight.”

“Oh.”

“I will let you go with my brother, my lady wolf.” He sighed and you could taste the regret. Then, he seemed to shake himself and spoke loud enough for all to hear. “Genji, treat my lady wolf with the utmost of respect.”

Genji bowed over your hand and then led you away. It would have made a spectacle to make them all talk, but Hanzo immediately went to the geisha right beside him and asked her to dance. You were forgotten as the Shimada Kumicho began dancing. The music resumed and the crowd simply focused on them rather than you.

Genji led you around the edges of the room and then back to the guest tower. You flinched to hear the clock in the hallway chime the half hour. Finally, you found your voice, “M-m-m-master Genji—.”

He pulled down his hood and looked at you. “Well, he always has had good taste.” You shook your head with an anxious jerk and looked up at him. “But unfortunately, Cinderella—.”

“I know—I have to return everything.”

He sighed and nodded as he untied the obi from the middle of your back. “For what it’s worth, you and he were a great couple.”

You ducked back into Kioko’s room and changed into your normal uniform. Folding the kimono and obi was bittersweet and you had to keep dabbing at your eyes to stop the tears from ruining the priceless silk. Then you closed up the boxes and took them back out.

Genji was fiddling with a device as you came out with your arms full and the mask precariously on top. He nodded absently and took them from you. “Hey, Lady Wolf—don’t forget the jewelry.” You gasped and tugged off the necklace and then pulled at your hair until the it was all free. Sure enough, there was a comb of silver dotted with yellow stones like the necklace. “Thank you.”

And then he went all but skipping down the hallway and was gone.

You were shaky as you laid down on your servant’s futon. Of course, Kioko and her father showed up at some point in the wee hours of the morning and you were there to help her out of the costume and mask and help her wash her face in preparation for bed.

She was... ecstatic. Her face was alight with radiance and you couldn’t name exactly what it was that was making her so pleased. She hummed lightly as you helped her into her nightgown and pulled down her sheets.

Finally, you asked, “What has happened? Did the Shimada Kumicho choose you?”

“What?!” she gasped. Then she glanced around before whispering, “No. He found someone else and I am free.”

“What?” you whimpered wearily.

“He found a lady. She... she—.”

Her father’s voice sounded in the suite. “Settle down, you two. I need my sleep and it is late.”

You nodded at her and smiled as she snuggled into the pillows. There was still a lot to do and it was a quarter hour or more before you were done hanging up the elaborate costume and obi. Finally, you could get back to your own futon and get some sleep.

The next morning, you were groaning to get out of bed. You got up at some unholy hour to grab the light servant’s breakfast—a European continental breakfast of rolls or bagels or the like with cream cheeses and jellies and then juices and pots of coffee or hot tea—so that you were ready to begin packing. The crowd of servants finally unwound enough to talk to each other now that the stress of the meetings and greetings and dance were finally over.

Breakfast was filling enough that you felt more awake when you finally got back up to the third floor of the guest tower. Like every other servant, you tried to glide in as quietly as possible to avoid waking the family. The carts to haul the luggage to the elevator suddenly became extinct and you groaned at the thought of numerous trips up and down with luggage.

The family awoke and went down to eat their breakfast with the other families. At last you could walk around the suite and get things done—removing the costly kimono from their hangars, folding the obi that could stretch from one end of the room to the other, gathering and locking up the makeup chest. Not to mention pulling the linens off and folding up the futons so that you could put them away.

The luggage was packed up except for the mask that you’d need to hand carry and you went to strip the linens from the four futons—yours, the secretary’s, the kumicho’s and your mistress’s. A harried Shimada maid had dropped off a large wicker hamper from a stack of them in her arms and you dropped in the men’s linens before going on to the other two. The linens were thick and heavy with luxury as you tugged them away.

Imagine your surprise when you found half of a plastic wrapper buried in the rumpled sheets of Kioko’s bed.

You picked it up to stare at it and it showed the logo of... a condom company.

It froze you in your tracks and the top sheet fell from your fingers as you gaped. What on earth was that doing in here? You might have dismissed it as an embarrassing oversight of the Shimada staff—perhaps a previous guest—but it felt still cool and you catch the vaguely saline and antiseptic scent. If it had been an older oversight, it wouldn’t have the moist scent would it? And why was it in Kioko’s bed?

Your kimono had no pockets and you couldn’t think what to do, so you stuffed it hastily in your small suitcase. It would have to wait. You finished pulling off the linens and shook them all out twice, just in case. There could be no mistake, no bad impressions, and your hands shook as you dumped the linens into the hamper and folded the futons up.

You were sweating—again—when a Shimada servant knocked on the door.

What a time! You wiped your forehead and walked to the suite door. With a low bow, you forced yourself to smile. “Yes?”

“With all due respect, the Shimada Kumicho would like to extend an invitation to your family.”

You grit your teeth as you were handed a thick piece of parchment colored paper with a handwritten invitation. Your feet squirmed in your slippers as you thought about the damning wrapper. “I would be... h-h-happy to extend your invitation to the family.” You both bowed again as clammy sweat grew on your spine. “Please feel free to move into the family tower today.”

“T-t-today?!”

“Yes, miss. I will bring you a cart as soon as the other families leave.”

You shuddered wildly. Kioko was... not going to like this. Her father would be overjoyed to gain by a marriage into the Shimada clan. At least you were packed, but that seemed a small compensation as you crept to the main building to give the news to the kumicho and his daughter. Sure enough, he was able to at least act pleased and she looked positively stricken in her silence.

The cart appeared two hours later and you tugged the suitcases on to it. Then you pushed it to the elevator. Nothing felt right, nothing felt like it was good luck, as you mashed the button. Hopefully you could find someone helpful to tell you what would happen next.

Just as you found someone to lead you through the immense main building, you had to face that you had absolutely no luck at all except for bad luck.

The Shimada servant—a dour faced man with a small silver goatee and a gray tonsure that contrasted wildly with his dark gray kimono—was pushing the cart with the men’s luggage while you pushed Kioko’s pile of luggage on a separate cart. You tried very hard to not gawk at the decorations—ancient swords, bonsai trees, Impressionist paintings, lush carpets that looked Persian, and sculptures—and the obvious wealth that had gone into the living quarters. Then there were guards—hulking men in suits with little devices in their ears—and Omnic cameras everywhere. The Shimadas would know instantly where you were and every move you made as eyes seemed to record everything about you.

You pulled on your cart when you were certain you heard Kioko’s voice. Looking around anxiously, you saw the only door on this section of hallway was partially open. Perhaps she needed something, so you nodded at the servant and you both pulled the carts up and to the side of the hallway.

With your head automatically lowered slightly, you slid open the door. Then the roar of sounds swamped you—a gasp from the servant behind you, a sobbing cry from Kioko and then a masculine groan. Your eyes shot up to see Kioko and Shiro standing there together, arms around each other. Her hands were tangled in his lapels and tears smeared down her cheeks with mascara and eyeliner makeup trails of gray.

Then everything spun out of control.

The Shimada servant ran off before you knew to stop him. Kioko sagged weakly against Shiro and her eyes fluttered closed. Footsteps—heavy, angry footsteps—thundered up around you and the hallway filled with angry men. You caught a grim face here and there and frowns everywhere as you desperately tried to avoid attracting any attention to yourself.

You saw the horrified and furious face of the kumicho and you collapsed on the floor as he rushed past. Shiro and Kioko were trapped in the room as guards filled the corners and blocked each end of the hallway. You shuddered to hear the roar of the kumicho at Kioko.

Everything fell into place.

Then Hanzo appeared and stalked past your huddled form to go into the room. “I demand an explanation!”

She knelt down—almost a complete mirror of your submissive posture—with sobs shaking her whole body. You glanced up to see Shiro kneeling as well. Silence fractured the air and you choked on it as she whimpered. Finally, she gasped, “Please, Shimada Kumicho—.”

“I suppose this is where you will tell me that this is not what I think it is,” he snapped. Then, you heard the horrifying sound of crinkling plastic. “Then, I suppose that you will tell me that this is also not what I think it is.”

You dared to look up at him and he had... that other half of the condom wrapper. The logo you had stared at was clearly visible to everyone’s narrowing eyes. You bit your lip and bowed your head to stare at the woven tatami mats. He knew. Big, terrifying Hanzo Shimada knew and he had the other half of the condom package. Why hadn’t you looked for it? Would you have even found it? Was that why he had brought you to the masquerade at all—so that he could have his servants search the room?

The kumicho sputtered angrily, his face growing red. “I intend to... to....” He scowled at his daughter as she sobbed noisily into the mats. “I will not tolerate this dishonor! I will punish them both—.”

Hanzo’s grunt rumbled in the still room. “I will not tolerate this in my house from the woman I intend on offering marriage. Nor do I intend on allowing it to continue—.” You sobbed as well—what would happen to you now if the kumicho disowned his daughter? Or if he...? What would he do? “This is unacceptable on every front.”

The kumicho sputtered angrily again. “I do not have a daughter! This.... this female has absolutely no relation to me!” Kioko let out a moan, and you could only think she was lucky that her father wasn’t demanding she commit seppuku. Finally the kumicho waved angrily at her and stomped his foot, “I regret I have no daughter for you to consider, honorable Shimada Kumicho-sama.”

Hanzo was silent—everyone held their breath—as he stomped away. The second cart was pushed away without you even really knowing about it. Still Shiro and Kioko huddled together. When you glanced up at them, you almost felt sorry at their tragedy. It was like Romeo and Juliet, was it not? If you hadn’t been abruptly out of a job and homeless, you would have cried at the hopeless tragedy of it all. As it was, you were frozen to your spot.

“Dismissed,” Genji ordered. “Everyone please go back to your jobs.”

Hanzo let out a rumbling sound and stood there firmly as everyone left. Four was an unlucky number in Japan and it was truly just the four of you—Shiro, Kioko, himself and you—in this back hallway. You were too terrified to cry, to do more than huddle down here.

He tapped your shoulder and you jerked upright to see Hanzo looking down at you. His sheer power, his rage, terrified you even more from this angle. He was in a formal kimono of black with white embroidered crests on each side of his chest. A pair of beautiful swords—a katana and a wakazashi—were at his left hip and he rested his left hand on the scabbard. He nodded towards the room and you staggered up to your feet. He nodded again to get you to move into the room.

You crept past him and went to a corner of the room. Whatever he had planned for Kioko, it would flow down to you. And there were no witnesses now. In fact, you were sure you could hear the kumicho driving off already, abandoning Shiro and Kioko to whatever fate Hanzo and the Shimada clan had for them.

He closed the door behind himself and glowered down at the couple. Hanzo let the silence fill the room, let the tension draw everyone’s nerves into tight bundles that would shatter at the next sound. Finally, he grunted, “You are the kumicho’s secretary and confidant, are you not?”

Shiro swallowed and nodded. “Y-y-yes, sir.” Kioko let out a soft sound and you could hear the creak of the woven tatami mats as she leaned closer to him. “However—.”

“I tolerate no such things, do you understand?”

“Yes-s-s-s, sir.”

You gasped softly, but Hanzo was not done. “Tell me, Kioko-san—what are your feelings for this man?”

She gasped and both of you looked up at Hanzo as he stared down at you. “I... I do not understand.”

“You care deeply for this man, yes?” She could say nothing, only nod and lower her head again. “And I would wager that you have cared for him a long time?” She nodded again. “I do not have any patience for those who betray me—do you understand?”

She shook her head slowly. “I... apologize. I do not understand.”

“I will send for your things. You will both file paperwork for marriage in three days and be married within the week.” He scowled at Shiro. “You, sir, will never be one of my trusted advisors, but I will accept you to support my shatei and the junior members of the clan. I will expect you to use every talent you possess to further the Shimada clan.” He stepped forward to loom over the man. “If you do not accept, I will keep Kioko-san here and you will be banished from my territory. I do not imagine that I have to tell you what would happen if... others found that you had betrayed your kumicho a second time?”

“No... N-n-n-no, sir!”

“For the three days while you apply for marriage, you will reside in my servants’ quarters. If you earn my trust, then you may petition me to move into housing in the village.” He snorted and you heard a soft click as he drew his katana out an inch. Considering the sword, he drawled, “How do you consider my proposal?”

“T-th-thank you... sir.” Hanzo opened the door and—somehow—there was a servant just outside the door as Shiro babbled. “Of course... you are generous, sir. Thank you!”

Hanzo issued a short order in a low voice. Then, slightly louder, he ordered, “Take these two to the servant’s quarters with their things. They will be issued storage space for their things. Every member of the Shimada is to report to me their slightest behavior and I will not tolerate the slightest disobedience. Do you understand?”

“Hai!” came the enthusiastic reply.

“Then carry out my orders,” he snapped.

To your astounded gaze, he had his servant lead Shiro and Kioko away. You could hear Kioko’s happy sobs fade down the hallway and Shiro’s soothing murmurs. Unexpectedly, you could breathe again—Kioko and Shiro would not be killed, had a place (no matter how dishonored it was) and somewhere to live. A small hope bloomed in your chest that even you—a former servant to a disgraced woman marrying a disgraced man—would survive this.

Hanzo paused there, looking both elegant and deadly as he considered the room. Finally, he murmured, “Do you like this room?”

You gaped up at him anxiously. “I... I suppose?”

“Please... come with me.”

You rose to your feet and he offered his hand to you. “Of course, sir.”

Ever so slowly, he tucked your hand in his elbow. “You will understand, of course, that none of this was in any way your fault.”

What were you to say to that? “Of course, sir.”

“So, please allow me to give you a brief tour.” He gestured towards the room. “This is... a useless room. My grandfather was supposed to have had a mahjong table here, but he broke it in a fit of rage against one of his kyodai. So, it has remained empty.”

“I see,” you murmured.

“We will start with the front rooms. I have the front hall, but there are two rooms for guests so that husband and wife can entertain guests separately. This tower holds the family bedrooms and suites, my and my brother’s office, and some rooms in the basement. I would caution you to avoid the cellars until you are more familiar with the clan and how we work.” 

He snapped at a passing person and you were presented with a legal pad and an elegant pen. “Please... make some notes on your suggestions.” You nodded swiftly. He waved absently to a door. “There is the formal dining room. My mother chose the mahogany table and chairs, but I would like your opinion....”

He took you through all of the rooms—a formal dining room, the elaborate kitchen, the two sitting rooms or parlors, the cloak room, the large room that held gallons of the locally brewed sake, the small tea house, and pantry. There was even a bathhouse in the back of the garden. In each room, he had you take notes on the decor and each time he asked what you would change. You weren’t sure exactly what you were supposed to be doing, but you did offer him ideas on new furniture and lighting ideas. Perhaps moving some of the bonsai around or adding orchids if they could tolerate the climate.

On the second floor, he showed you the door to Genji’s suite and office before bringing you along the hallway to his office. He still used the same heavy wooden desk his father used, along with the sleek office equipment. There was a smaller desk to one side for his secretary/accountant and then a small room off his office space with a secretary desk and a sleek leather chair.

“That will be where you will be able to do your correspondence and take care of your bookkeeping.” He glanced around. “It sometimes takes a while for things to be shipped here because of our elevation. However, there is a network connection so that when your computer arrives, you can use the fax machine, copier and printer in my office.”

You looked at the elegant room with its almost feminine tables. “I... do not understand. Do you want me to... be a secretary?”

He smirked at you. “Not quite. Come, we have the other side of the floor.”

You bit your lip, looking at the potentially costly things you had already spoken to him about. He simply tucked your hand back into the crook of his elbow and led you out of the office before locking it back. You were unsure if you were excited or dismayed. He fully intended that you would remain here—that was obvious—but you were almost afraid to hope about what he meant.

Then, as he paused in the hallway to speak to a suited man—apparently Genji’s secretary—you felt something ripple under your fingers. It wasn’t his muscles, but it felt like there was definitely something moving. It rippled and slithered along his forearm, but when you shifted ever so slightly in surprise, it sank and again you felt simply a muscular forearm.

When Hanzo’s attention returned to you, his eyes widened. “You do not feel well? You are quite pale.”

Your mind felt shattered as you tried to figure out what it was, and you babbled the first thing you thought, “What are you going to do with me?!”

He gave you a smile. “You look faint. Come... I will take you to your suite and you can rest.”

He took you down the hallway and slid open the door to a large suite of rooms. From this sitting room, you could readily see a masculine bedroom with a huge futon to one side. His bow and quiver were on stands just visible from the doorway. On the other side, there was an elegant but quite impersonally empty second bedroom. Towards the back of the suite was a rare private bathroom with shower, jacuzzi tub, toilet, bidet and linen closet along with a double sink. On the right hand side, there was a little chrome stand with a toothbrush holder, a shaving brush and a razor, along with a soapstone bowl holding a cake of shaving soap. The sink on the left hand side was bare even of soap.

“You are going to be moved to this suite,” he purred. There was a Chinese wardrobe with a dozen drawers in the bottom and then a wide open space with a garment rod. A mahogany kimono stand was to one side beside a dresser of drawers. There was even a small, dainty table with two chairs with silk cushions on them. On one wall there was what had to be a custom sliding door with delicately wrought iron over it that you could see led to a covered wooden balcony with iron chairs and a table that overlooked the snowy mountaintops. Of course, there was the large futon bed and—amazingly—a twisting staircase up to the third floor where you saw a carefully organized storage area for kimono. “Please rest for now. I realize that this is... perhaps overwhelming.”

“Y-y-yes,” you whispered.

He turned to you with earnest eyes. “I do apologize for springing all of this on you.” He smiled down at you with a warm stare. “Yet... I cannot apologize for taking you the moment I could. I have never felt such... such an inner drive to claim you. No one else has made me feel this way, as if I would be torn in two if I did not do everything in my power to hold on to you.”

You felt your heart melt. “Oh....”

“I knew it even before you appeared in your wolf costume.” He flushed and held on to both your arms desperately. “I ordered the costume and forbade the servants and seamstresses from doing it for any other woman so that you would be without compare.”

You flushed, your fingers fumbling the suddenly heavy pen and the pad. “I... Thank you. I had... no idea.”

“You surely have felt something!” he whispered. “Surely, I am not alone in feeling this desire.” You shook your head and he pulled you flat against him. “I have never known such a feeling, such a burning, and it began the moment I saw you. As if you were made for me—my other half—and there was a rifle to my head that would kill me if I did anything other that what I did.”

You were flattered—of course you were—but also a little... concerned. It was so fast, so complete. His eyes were a bit wild, desperate and almost glassy. You could have easily believed that he was driven but why would the wealthy and powerful Shimada kumicho be so suddenly obsessed with a servant to a daughter of a rival clan?

The pen and pad did fall to the floor and your hands fell to his muscular biceps. The warm muscles gave you an elemental, feminine thrill right up until you felt his left arm. Right under your palm was a stripe of cool flesh, as if there was a cold pack right there on his arm. Then it wriggled. No, this time you were sure that you felt a round shape push up on his arm against your hand and then roll in a serpentine way. Before you could do more than stare up at him, it sank and dissolved back down into his arm. Then your palm almost burned with his warm skin.

Finally, you realized that he was expecting some kind of response. You blushed—which must have looked odd against your pale face. You managed to give him a bashful grin and nod, which made him smile. He seemed to shed fifteen or twenty years as he relaxed. Finally, he leaned close and his lips brushed your forehead.

“I have chosen well,” he murmured. You eyes fluttered slightly closed, relieved at his pleased expression. Unexpectedly, he took in a deep breath that made his chest—even his shoulders—expand. He held that breath for a few seconds the way a wine connoisseur would hold a mouthful of wine to appreciate all of the blooming flavors. Then, he released it softly and it trailed across your hair. “I can... smell your innocence. I will always cherish that I am your first.”

Finally, he stepped back and released you. You could see the large lump right at his groin. He smirked, knowing exactly what you were looking at. “My innocent lady wolf, I want you to rest and you will dine with my family tonight. I will have a maid come in with one of my mother’s kimono and obi and hairpins until I can take you shopping for clothes that will compliment your beauty.”

You nodded with eager agreement. Something you couldn’t name trickled down your spine and you thought you felt another slither under his clothes. You were exhausted, too, and quite eagerly went to the futon, where he tucked you in. No, he truly tucked you in and fluffed the pillows under you head. He even pushed a bit of covers under your feet so that you were warmly wrapped from head to foot.

Hanzo picked up the pen and pad and quietly set them on the little table before dimming the lights and sliding out on eerily quite feet. You were in a huge room—a suite of rooms—and wrapped in more luxury than you had ever seen. Not even Kioko’s room in Osaka had been this luxuriously. There was a soft floral scent of jasmine and rose from some potpourri or something somewhere in the suite and there was the solemn toll of a grandfather clock—perhaps in Hanzo’s room—and you realized that you were actually going to fall asleep....

It was fully dark when you heard the soft sound of your door sliding open. No lights were on and, honestly—most of the light still in the room was coming from the pinkish looking snow and then the starry sky. So, everything seemed foreign and almost terrifying in their unfamiliar shapes and shadows.

There it was again.

You stared at where you thought the door way and saw a strange rippling. It was far too tall for even Hanzo or his brother, and in any case, it seemed to almost from wall to wall. You let out a squeak as it came closer. Then closer still, until you felt the dip of cool weight on the foot of the futon.

Heat swamped you suddenly as incense filled your lungs. Not the sweet and floral potpourri or the fragrance of some manly cologne. It was quite unlike anything you could name or even imagine and when the voice like whispering winds came to you, you weren’t sure you what you felt.

“What a pretty little pet has been left behind,” it whispered. A breath whooshed in and out like a bellows breathing. “And I can smell your innocence.” What were you to say to that? It was not Hanzo, nor Genji, and the voice seemed to fill the room with power. “Pity. But there will be other nights.”

A large—very large—palm covered one side of your face from your hair to your jaw. The prick of claws touched the back of your skull and then down at your jaw. Whatever it was, it was huge.

And it seemed to be oozing, pushing, more of that incense into the air. Your body felt heavy, slow, and all of your muscles seemed to fade from resistance to feverish malaise. That heavy, scaly paw pushed you back into the bedding. You had no resistance, couldn’t summon the strength to do more than reach up blindly.

A bumpy, rough skin was under your fingertips. It was inhumanly cool and as your fingers went back and forth restlessly, you realized that you were running up and down enormous scales. Your first thought was that you were caressing a giant snake far larger than any you had ever even imagined.

It coiled up, sliding smoothly onto the costly sheets, before wrapping in lazy circles that somehow could contain your whole body. To your surprise, you were utterly drowning in that heady scent, but it felt cool instead of the warmth you would have expected had you been wrapped in human arms.

The paw came back and the claw dug into the overlap over your chest. “You are a pleasant little gift to appease my hunger.” A... nose that seemed to be like a horse’s nuzzled your belly. “And I will finally have more young of my own kind.”

“Y-y-your... own kind?”

“It... will be a pleasure to have you. A pleasure to know the joy of mating.”

“What are you?” you squeaked as you curled into a ball.

“I? What am I? I am the dragon of Hanamura.” You squealed again in alarm. “I told him that you were the one. I pointed you out, made sure that he saw only you. I told him to order the costume so that you were hidden from anyone who would stop him from claiming you.”

It nuzzled you again and claws cupped your head. A long, cool claw tapped your lip until your lips parted. A whoosh of incense filled your lungs, making your eyes flutter closed as the very tip of that curved claw tugged on your lower lip.

Something brushed your lips. It was cool and smooth and rounded like a teacup as it pushed farther. Then farther still. You gagged slightly at the size—like a banana—as it pushed further. You were distantly expecting a dip, a slight edge to the round tip like a mushroom cap, but it was smooth and uniform all the way back to your throat.

You shuddered, gagging, as you pulled back. It followed you, though. Unexpectedly, it bobbed front and back and you heard that windy voice rumble in pleasure. “My pretty little present, keep doing that. Wrap your tongue around me and lap like the pet you are.”

You did exactly as the voice said. Your tongue wriggled along the tip and lapped at the dimpled slit. Salty and slightly vinegary tastes filled your mouth and the coils around you shuddered. So, you did it again and weakly wrapped your fingers around the long shaft, making the dragon shudder again.

You felt heat rush in your veins as the dragon let out a moan. Then another long, sensuous, sibilant hiss surrounded you and wove through your hair. God, for some reason you couldn’t exactly name, this felt amazing. Some drugging and lethargic pleasure rushed through you. As soon as you recognized the pulsing in your body, the dragon let out a groan and shuddered.

It could not be a coincidence that the dragon could move exactly in tandem with you....

You were going to refuse, to pull back and shake your head, but then your mouth was flooded with the salt and vinegar taste. More than you imagined and it spilled into your cheeks and down your throat. You managed to swallow it—could not imagine doing anything other than swallowing it because the mess would be very telling to Hanzo, wouldn’t it?—and felt your cheeks and lips pucker and chap.

Then, it slid back. The stack of coils evaporated away and you saw the dim shadow of mist seem to flow towards the glass door and then curl down the balcony and out of sight. Your eyes went wide at the sight. You could not believe it, even though your mouth tingled and your lips felt swollen.

There was rustling now that ended just outside your door. A light came on in that sitting room and it bled through to become slender rays in your room. There was a light tapping and a female voice called out, “Ma’am—are you awake?”

“A-a-awake?” you gritted out. Yes, you were sure you were awake. Or were you? What happened just now? The sheets were around you—even your feet—and there were no signs that a huge creature had been there. “Yes, I am awake.”

The maid—a young girl with almond eyes and long black hair in the scrawny phase of adolescence—slid open and she turned up the lights. She appeared even more thin in the dark kimono that was apparently the uniform of the Shimada servants as she stepped cautiously into the room and knelt. “Ma’am, I am honored to serve as your maid.”

“W-w-what is your name?”

She looked up and her faced lit up with pleasure. “I am Aoi, ma’am.”

“A-a-aoi-san.” You took a breath and sat up fully. Your kimono was perfectly in place, although horribly creased from sleeping in it and the dream seemed even more impossible. “What do you...?”

“Ma’am... we are here to dress you for dinner.” She gave you a radiant smile and slid the door open for a whole procession of girls to come in. “We have your kimono right here. It was brought out especially for you from the Master’s honorable mother’s collection.”

Your eyes bugged out to see the kimono bought out by hand like a bridal train. The obi, too, was cradled in careful arms in a loose way to prevent even the momentary folding from creasing it. They settled everything gently and hung the kimono up before turning as one to you.

You were caught in the middle of a well meaning storm as hands brought a washcloth for your face, encouraged you to brush your teeth, brushed and styled your hair, trimmed then filed your ragged nails, put gloss on your lips and eased you into the under robe. The lapels of the under robe would be visible and were folded over your chest with such precision you worried for an instant that you would be presented to the Emperor himself.

Aoi looked up and smiled at you as she helped you put on your socks and buttoned them. “Madam, it is a special honor to attend you. Tomorrow we are going to go to the village to buy you polish, makeup and to go to a proper hairdresser.” Her eyes sparkled as she began fastening your other sock. “It will be a relief to have a proper mistress of Hanamura again and it will be such fun to take care of you.”

You nodded dumbly. You had certainly been in Aoi’s place, taking care of Kioko, but had never expected to have this whirl of activity around you. Aoi warbled on about the makeup brands and the stylists that she was certain that you would like. Of course, you would have to travel with Master Hanzo to Tokyo to go buy the designer purses and shoes and Western styles. All of them went into fits of giggles as Aoi decreed that you would also need to be acquainted with the masseuse and the spa before the wedding. You could barely nod as she listed all of the myriad procedures and services she thought you needed—manicure, pedicure, facial, waxing, lash extensions, sugar body scrub, seaweed wrap, hot oil treatment for your hair, paraffin treatment for your hands and feet—and tried not to think about how long that would take or how expensive all of that was.

Of course you weren’t done when you were in the black kimono and the gold and red obi was tied around your waist. A silvery dragon wrapped around your ankles and up your legs to have its whiskered nose right at your upper thighs. Aoi and her friends brought out little bags and velveteen boxes to present you with a variety of hair pins, combs, and assorted gold jewelry. If you had been overwhelmed before, you had no idea what to make of their excited chatter about which pieces you should wear on your debut.

You were all but unable to move. Of course, you had no doubt that they had some kind of contingency for this mix of abject terror and burning desire and only the thought that they would bring out a little cart for you to stand on managed to break through your mind enough that you could take the dainty steps down to the dining room. Genji opened the door for you when Aoi knocked and you felt dazed to see Hanzo rising from the table to come take your hand.

Again, he put a chaste kiss on your forehead. “You are even more beautiful than I remembered.” You nodded slowly and thanked him automatically. “Come. The chef has been working to present you with all of our local delicacies.”

He led you to the table with all the care a princess would expect. Genji apparently had brought out some of the reserve from the brewery on the estate and then waved imperiously for a bottle of champagne. Again, a procession of servants brought out the scented towels for you all to wash your hands, then bowls of rice and teal glazed plates. You almost had forgotten how to eat as you were served processions of little dishes with artful carved roses and nests of carrots and zucchini in such fine spiral threads that they looked ethereal all by themselves. For dessert, you were brought out a spinning platter of little dark chocolates the color of night, mochi in three colors with three fillings, macaroons with delicate lemon zest and lavender buds, sugared orange slices, and tiny cubes of cheesecake.

Genji poured you and Hanzo little thimblefuls of sake as the servants went bustling back out to get the champagne and flutes. You liked him—as much as your frozen mind allowed you to even think of that—and he did seem to have entire encyclopedias of jokes and riddles memorized. Hanzo smiled at him in the patronizing, older brother way that suggested he was putting up with the nonsense out of the generosity of spirit and to celebrate the day.

And the alcohol was making him worse. The jokes were not even out of his mouth before he began laughing. “So then the donkey says....” He giggled wildly. “... the donkey says, ‘why the long face’....”

You laughed and glanced again at Hanzo. He smirked as the younger brother snorted and covered his face with his hand. “I see. ‘Why the long face’....”

Hanzo nodded and put his hand over yours for a brief moment. His eyes lit up when you met his gaze and he smiled even more. Then, the moment was over as he took the chilled champagne bottle to open it. You expected the cliche and theatrical pop and for foam to spill everywhere, but instead he eased the cork out so that not a drop spilled. Then, with an elegance that seemed unearthly, he poured small measures in each of the sparkling crystal flutes and handed them around.

Genji took his and studied the pale gold, bubbling champagne for a long moment. “To my innocent, sweet sister-in-law-to-be.” You copied Hanzo and took up your flute to tilt it slightly at the young man. “May she be as ever gentle, sweet, innocent and sane as she is now.”

You choked on your first sip of the alcohol. Finally, you managed to cough and clear your throat enough to whisper, “Sane?”

Hanzo growled low in his throat. “It was a poor joke, Genji-san.” Genji shrugged and sipped from his flute. “What my brother is referring to is that he... ahh....” He looked at you evenly for a moment and shook his head slightly. “It is a poor joke. And nothing for you to worry with.”

“Sane?” you repeated slowly. “What happened?”

Hanzo growled and cursed under his breath before setting his flute down with an uncharacteristic clatter. “I suppose that you must know, but I will tell it.” He glared at Genji with glowing fury. “Genji found a lovely girl that he brought here to meet our father. She seemed fine when she was put into her suite and we were looking forward to meeting the one that had turned him into a better man.”

“W-w-what happened?”

Hanzo sighed and folded his hands in his lap. “No one was more surprised than I when she came running down to dinner. She... she was utterly demented—her hair in a bird’s nest on her head and her clothing torn and scratches all over—when she began screaming that a dragon had... attacked her in her suite. At first, we thought that it was... perhaps a bad dream. Perhaps she had fallen or been attacked while asleep. We brought in doctors to heal her wounds and when she kept shouting that a dragon was in her hallways. Whenever she was left alone, she would reappear with wounds and all askew and we would have to call the doctors again.”

Genji broke in. “And she kept raving about dragons finding her wherever she went.”

“But...?” you whispered.

“We tried everything,” Hanzo murmured soothingly. “We do not give up on our own. We brought in psychiatrists and therapists and healers. We set guards in the hallway and no one entered. We had her tested for drugs numerous times. We took her to the neurology department of the largest hospital in Tokyo for tests to see what might be wrong with her mind, but there were no conclusive results.”

“A... a dragon?” you whispered.

“We ended up having to take her to... to convalesce....” Hanzo muttered.

Genji giggled with an anxious crack in his voice. “She went to an asylum, anija. My sister-in-law will undoubtedly hear the entire story, so there is no reason to bury it all under euphemisms and little lies.” He grinned at you. “She went to an asylum and is living there on high watch because she still insists that she was tortured by a dragon.”

Hanzo waved slightly. “No one believes her, of course, and she is not in any danger of hurting herself any more. I pay for her care and we can hope that at some point she will recover.”

You nodded uncertainly and sipped your champagne but it was suddenly not so sweet or so heady. “I... see?”

“Let us not speak of such... grim tidings, when we have so much to celebrate. We are very glad to have you join the family,” Hanzo said firmly, as if closing the subject would ease the worries in your head. “And I look forward to a long and prosperous union.”

You nodded and guzzled the rest of the champagne. There were fluttering butterflies not just in your stomach, but now all along your nerves. Hanzo helped you rise, snapping at a servant that the room needed to be cleaned. Ever so slowly, he took you to the second floor and to the suite. From somewhere, he found a long fur stole that he wrapped around your shoulders before leading you out onto the balcony. From there, he pointed out constellations and murmured soft nothings in your ears until you were blushing.

Then he brought you back inside. “You are a true delight.” Slowly, his rough hands pushed the satin lined stole off of your body. You felt the satin slide along the silk and then the lightening of weight and the soft sigh of the fur collapsing on the floor. “It feels as though I have waited my entire life for this touch, this moment. As if I was driven by the universe to your side.”

Your arms went up to his neck. He felt so warm, so very alive as his lips went to brush your forehead and cheeks. He went to your earlobe next, nibbling and exciting every particle of you. Your head seem to loll back on your shoulders and you felt fire licking up from each place he touched you.

“My innocent lady wolf,” he purred. “You are a delight and a joy to me.”

He glided around behind you. “You grow so silent, my lady wolf, that I fear I will harm you without knowing. You will be my princess, my treasure, for all of my days.” You gasped anxiously as you felt the first slide of fabric as he untied the obi. Abruptly, it loosened around your chest and you felt it drift away from you. The careful folds of the kimono that made it fit on your body fell away and suddenly it, too, sagged away. “Always give me the sound of your pleasure, my lady wolf.”

He must have been a magician, because all of the intricate ties seemed to simply fall open at his touch. You let out a moan as his hands trailed down your spine. He was patient, though, waiting until you looked over your shoulder and saw him grinning at you.

“Come, my lady wolf, and do not be shy exploring my body as I explore yours.” Ever so carefully, he spun you in the puddle of your clothes. Ever so slowly, he took your hands and guided them to his waist. “I am not some monster to gobble you up.”

You nodded slowly and felt a little skitter of fear run down your spine despite his reassurance. Still, he pushed your hands to his obi, to where it was elegantly tied. He wrapped your fingers around each knot and fold until you were pulling the fabric away from him. Then, his kimono and obi sagged and slithered through your fingers to hit the floor.

You gaped at him in shock. The man was muscular, amazingly fit, and in the prime of his life. He could overpower you in a moment. Your eyes went automatically to the dark tattoo that wrapped around his arm. He gave you an understanding nod and brought your hands to it.

“My lady wolf, you cannot be shy,” he smirked. “You must touch me and satisfy your curiosities. When we wed, you will be taken our horishi.” He traced down your arms and his fingers brushed your collarbone. “He will spend three days praying over you and will use his vision to create the tattoo that will give you blessings and—if the kami are kind—will help bind an ujigami—a spirit animal—to you.”

“W-w-what?”

Instead of answering, he scooped you up and took your to your futon. There he peppered kisses along your skin. Hands that were rough and palms that were skilled stroked you until you were writhing and gasping. There was a breathless moment as he cupped your breasts and lapped at the stiff tips—the moment that you thought you were again in the dream about... what was it? You stopped caring as he wrapped his arms around you to hold you tight.

He nibbled your neck with only the very tips of his sharp teeth. “My lady wolf—do not be so shy.” His tongue lapped at your breasts again. “I will cherish your innocence as none other can.”

Rough fingertips stroked the delicate skin of your inner thighs, teasing your legs apart. He stroked there as heat grew and grew. It was as if he had some pure knowledge—some preternatural intelligence—on the exact places that would make you grow wilder and wilder. And when his pinkie slipped inside and was coated in your slick, he smiled against your skin and his eyes grew warm as he caught your gaze.

“Now you must trust me,” he purred as he withdrew his pinkie. Lasciviously, he licked his finger as though he was sampling honey. He took your hand and drew it to his cock, wrapping your hand around its heated length. “Do not fear my touch, my lady wolf, as I do not fear yours.”

Instinctively, he pumped your hand around his cock and on that same instinctive level, you started doing it as well. “That is what I like.”

Your mouth fell open, but you clenched your jaw shut again. “Is that... all you like?”

He traced your lips with his sticky, slick fingers. “Are you asking if I would want your mouth? Of course I would.” A smug smile spread on his features. “You are most delightful—.”

Your hand clenched a bit tighter, making him throw his head back with a wide smile. He gasped and shuddered under your hands. You were focused on that, on the little spurt of cloudy liquid that smeared on his ruddy cock, and then the loud moan he gave. Hanzo shook tossed his head again so that the little thread of black hair across his forehead flew back into his mane.

You were intent on this task until he let out a groan. He grabbed your wrists and pulled them away with a growl. His leg cocked up and you felt him lunge strangely. You felt the air whoosh out of your lungs as he almost tossed you onto the futon. Then he was on top of you with a ferocious growl. His leg pressed between your thighs, spreading your legs and with a lunge, he pushed inside you.

The burning, stretching feeling would have been unbearable if you hadn’t been in the middle of your own passionate inferno. Instead of the aching stretch you would have expected, the pain that all the novels talked about, in was an immediate pressure directly inside of your core. He pinned your wrists to the soft futon and waited only half a minute before starting a powerful rocking.

His eyes glittered possessively as he nipped at the soft skin of your neck. “My innocent. My lady wolf—you are now completely mine.” You gave him a dazed look. “I will never let you go, never betray you. I will have all of you. Your laughter. Your smiles and joys.” He snapped his hips fiercely, grinning wildly when you clenched around him and gave him a shout. “Together we will found a dynasty.”

One hand released your wrist to tug your leg up to his hips. Your other leg joined it, clamping on him and driving even more heat into you both. His triumphant laughter filled the suite and made you whine. He kept on, slamming into you with a singleminded passion that drove you to reach up, to grab his shoulders and then wrap your arms around his neck.

He laughed in a throaty, low-voiced passion. Then he sped up, making things seem even more desperate. Your muscles rippled wildly, straining for something that seemed just out of your reach. It burned, glowed like a star that you were hurtling towards like a comet even as it burned off chunks and pieces of you.

Then you exploded and felt the breathless fire fill your every limb.

He felt it, knew the moment that you were slammed into it, and you felt him surrender to that burning and glorious feeling. He hammered forwards like a jackhammer. He lost his rhythm, his heady considerate passion, but none of his grace as he went faster and faster. Then, just when you thought that you were going to float down, he shuddered and his cock jerked wildly. Then you would have sworn you felt an unfamiliar filling feeling burning in your core.

He panted and drops of sweat slid down his smooth skin. His smile was a glowing white as he shuddered again. “You are as exquisite as I imagined, my lady wolf.”

You let out a whimper of sound as your shaking hands traced over his muscles. Hanzo purred and shook his head wildly, sending sparkling drops of sweat flying off. The man let out a groan and shuddered one more time with a close-eyed nudge forward of his hips. Then he stayed stock still, refusing to move at all.

“My sweet,” he purred. “Your innocence is mine. My treasure. Our children will be strong and brilliant and clever and the entire clan will rejoice with us.”

You let out a strained whimper. Hanzo puffed out a breath and carefully laid down beside you. “My sweet, do not move just yet. I know you are sore.” You nodded rapidly. “I am a mighty man, but you must give my seed at least a little time.”

He wriggled and pull the sheets up around you, tucking them around your belly and hips. “Rest. In a few minutes, we will rise and get cleaned up. I know you are unused to it, but maids will come and clean the sheets and futon so that you can then rest well so that my son will be strong.”

You could not resist the yawn that came out as your body sank into the thick futon and began soaking up the furnace warmth of his muscular body behind you. Your eyes started to close until they landed on the twisting dragon tattoo. Then they flickered to an intricate ink painting on the wall.

“Will I have a tattoo like yours?” you whispered.

He nodded, his lips grazing your skin possessively. “Indeed. You will go to the same horishi that did mine and my brother’s. It will seem like forever as he prays and fasts and when he has a vision, he will put it on your skin.” You heard the smile in his voice as he lightly kissed the back of your neck. “For you, I will be there so that you will not fear.”

You let out a weary laugh. “Do you think it will be white wolf?”

“A wolf? No.” He stroked your arm. “The ujigami of the Shimada clan is the dragon. It is why you will find so many dragons around my home. The okami is my own favorite, the kami that I feel closest to.” He curled closer to you and his muscular arm cuddled under your belly. “I cannot tell you how glad, how... irresistibly proud, I was when I saw you appear as the okami. I had never felt such pride nor such an incredible possessive need to be the only one to be by your side.” He chuckled against your hair. “Had someone told me that I would be so driven to have you, I would have declared them mad, but there I was and nothing could have stood between us.” He chuckled softly and added, “And I am reassured you will not suddenly go mad and start raving about seeing dragons, unlike that girl that Genji brought over.”

You stretched your legs and felt the warm liquid drip out of you slightly. For a split-second, you could see yourself as that heavily pregnant wife to Hanzo Shimada. You could see how your breasts would fill out and your belly would swell. Something in you knew that if not tonight, then soon you would be pregnant, just like you knew he would be absolutely delighted with it.

You looked down at his arm. In six months or so, your belly be large enough that his large arm would not go around you. You would have a husband and a tattoo. Your life would be luxurious and you would have a clan of your own, protection, money—all the things you had ever wanted. You could get an education. Perhaps you could start a chic business—some little boutique to take up whatever free time you might have when you weren’t being a socialite and a highly powerful wife. Your mind boggled with the possibilities that were suddenly glittered in front of you and tempted you with all kinds of ideas as the Shimada kumicho drifted to sleep behind you.

At last, you were listening to him snoring behind you as you sleepily decided between a smart little fashion boutique  
and a luxurious spa. Your hand went to his arm. You traced the dragon’s body idly as you pictured a line out of your doors of people waiting with fists full of money.

Then there was that blood curdling feeling of his skin growing cool and then the press of a serpentine body emerging from his tattoo. It gave a sibilant stretch and the head raised up and it smiled at you with a cool, almost malicious, expression.

“You are no longer so innocent and now... you will always be mine.”


End file.
